


Esthenera

by myvividreams



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Clan Lavellan - Freeform, Gen, Gen fic but I'm still debating on the ships, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, POV Third Person, Reincarnation but not really, Self-Insert, Spirits?, does it count if it hasn't been written yet?, if there are to be any ships at all, it's complicated - Freeform, just an intro to a fic idea I had, just putting this out there, leaning towards may, may or may not continue, more like OC-insert, short fic, sort of, still trying to wrap my head around it tbh, this is like, um, weird magic stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:38:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myvividreams/pseuds/myvividreams
Summary: The first thing she remembers is loneliness—loneliness and a soul-deep aching awareness of loss. As if she had been taken apart and sewn back together at the seams, some parts lost and others gained, like a patchwork quilt made from two very different cloths—at once more and less than she was before.Twenty years before the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition take place, Clan Lavellan find a young girl sleeping in the forest. Nothing changes.





	Esthenera

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age. I do own the little girl and the hunter featured in this fic though.
> 
> **Hover your cursor over the Elvhen for translations!**

     “We found her sleeping in a glen near the ruins,” whispered the old hunter to Keeper Lavellan. “You should have seen it, Keeper. She lay there in a bed of star flowers like a vision out of one of your tales.”

     “Oh?” Murmured the Keeper as the two elves watched their healers fuss over the small child.

     “She _glowed_ ,” recounted the hunter in reverent awe, “like Satina and Luna above us. The flowers glowed too, and I wondered if I had not stumbled upon the sleeping sky on land. I thought the sight of her a vision from the Lady Andruil or Mythal, and time stood still between my one breath and the next.

     “Then,” continued the hunter in hushed tones, “she woke up.”

     The Keeper kept her silence as she considered the child. It wasn’t hard to picture the scene the old hunter was describing. Even now, the fair child seemed almost otherworldly in appearance—all pale skin against paler hair with the faintest hint of blue in her eyes, as if she were starlight trapped and given form. She was delicate. Lithe. Like the faint streams of moonlight peeking through a canopy of trees, a vision of white against the dark night, colored only by the firelight streaming from their side.

     As if sensing the Keeper’s consideration, the strange child turned and stared back, head tilting in confusion. _Who are you?_ She seemed to ask, though no sound at all came from her lips. _What is happening? Why am I here? Why are you staring at me?_

     The Keeper moved forward and knelt before the child. “Aneth ara, da’len,” she greeted kindly. “What is your name?” She waited patiently as the child tilted her head even further, still staring at her in bewilderment. Thinking the child must not have heard her, she repeated her question, but the child blinked and continued staring up at her with lost eyes. When, again, she asked her question and still received no answer, the Keeper frowned and looked towards the old hunter and asked, “Does she not speak or understand us?”

     The hunter walked over in worry and shook his head. “Forgive me, Istimaethoriel, I do not know. She was silent the entire journey here.” He stopped beside them, and hesitated only for a moment. Looking at the Keeper, he motioned at the child, tilting his head in question. When the Keeper nodded, they switched places. As he knelt before the child, he took out a handful of berries he had harvested while hunting in the forest  “Aneth ara, da’len,” said the hunter, offering the berries to the child. “Would you like some? It must have been a while since you last ate. Come, eat.”

     The child stared back up at him, pale blue eyes wide, before looking at the berries. The hunter smiled and kept his hand open and features relaxed, non-threatening. He was rewarded when the child slowly reached out and grabbed a berry from his hand. She seemed to play with it for a moment, strangely fascinated, before taking a small bite. When her eyes lit up, the hunter smiled. She looked back at him.

     “Ma serannas,” she said, and the hunter fought not to startle at her voice.

     As the child returned to savoring the berry, the hunter stood up, exchanging looks with the Keeper. Then they both turned back to the child who was licking the berry juice from her fingers.

     It was an odd sight—the child’s pale fingers were tinted red by the juice and gold from the firelight. Red and gold as if she herself were wielding fire on her fingertips. Like the lost magics of their race.

     “Da’len,”  said the Keeper slowly, a creeping and rather unlikely suspicion overcoming her. The child looked up at her, sucking the juice from a finger. “Dirthas Elvhen?”

     The child nodded, popping the finger from her mouth. “Dirthas.”

     At the response, the Keeper inhaled sharply, feeling almost shaky as she knelt before the strange child again. “Ahn mar melin?”

     The Keeper watched as the child paused, brows crinkling in thought. Almost immediately, confusion washed over the young child. “Ma'melin… Giran?” The pale child shook her head. “Din. Silaiman.” Looking apologetically back at the older woman, the child ducked her head. “Teleolasan. Ir abelas, hah’ren.”

          At the child’s answer, Keeper Lavellan had to restrain the hysterical laugh that bubbled in her. What an odd child this was, she thought, to be found near the ruins and speak only in a language their people are still only scrambling to find the scraps of. And to apologize for not knowing her name!

     The Keeper glanced at the old hunter, seeing her own awe reflecting on his face. Who was she, this child, this miracle—

     “Did you—,” whispered the hunter, wide eyed and reverent.

     “Vin,” she said, “I did.” The child watched them curiously as they spoke, eyes darting from one to the other.

     The hunter turned towards the Keeper, hushed tones becoming insistent. “I would adopt her, Istimaethoriel. The Creators have blessed us. We should not waste their gift.”

     “She may have family, Ellas,” the Keeper warned. The hunter shook his head. “You know just as well as I do that there’s no one other than our clan for miles around. If she did have family, they have left her for dead.”

     Keeper Lavellan smiled wryly and turned towards the child. “Mahn lethal?”

     “Teleolasan, hah’ren.”

     “Anor?”

     “Teleolasan.”

     The Keeper shook her head. So the hunter was right. She had somewhat expected it, but hearing it confirmed is an entirely different thing. She looked towards the hunter. “Well, old friend,” she said, “I believe it is your lucky day.”

     “No, Keeper,” said the hunter, shaking his head, “it is the Creators’ blessing, not luck.”

     The Keeper’s lips quirked up in agreement. “Of course,” she said, and turned towards the child. “Da’len,” said she, gesturing towards the hunter beside her, “ise Ellas. Nuvenal ea a’lethal. Nuvenas hima Ellasan lethal?”

     The child looked at the hunter hesitantly. “Ellasan… lethal?”

     “Vin,” the hunter nodded, and the Keeper stepped back to let them talk.

     “Nuvenas ea ma’lethal?” Asked the child.

     “Vin,” agreed the hunter. "Nuvenas ea _ma_ ’lethal?” He asked. Minutes seemed to tick by before the child nodded shyly in answer.

     “Vin,” she said softly, and the hunter drew her into a hug.

     “Ma serannas, da’u’vun,” he said as he held her reverently in trembling arms.

     The child scrunched up her face as she mouthed the endearment. “Da’u’vun,” she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue. “Ma’melin?”

     The old hunter shook his head, thinking of a glen of stars and Thedas’ two moons reflected on pale skin. He thought of the night sky mirrored on land, waking dreams and visions outside of time. Then, he spoke: “A’melin…”  He said, “A’melin Amelanu’vunen.”

     The child mouthed the name she was given. _Amelanu’vunen. Amelanu’vunen_. Delight lit her eyes, almost vibrating out of her small frame.

     Behind the new family, the Keeper slipped out of the healers’ tent after mouthing her congratulations to the hunter. She murmured the child’s new name, letting the syllables roll around tongue. _Amelanu’vunen_. Keeper of the Stars.

     What a fitting name.

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not continue this.
> 
> My Elvhen is very much a mixture of the wiki and FenxShiral's Project Elvhen. I apologize for the mangled Elvhen.
> 
> Title translation:  
> Esthenera = "Child of Waking Dreams"


End file.
